Niranjana
by Aldura
Summary: During PoA, the wolf takes a mate. *Warning for Dark Themes*
1. After Curfew

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter people, places, etc.  
Warning: Violence, slash, and dark themes will be part of this fic. Not meant to offend anyone, so be careful!  
  
***  
  
I float on my back, letting the world fade away into the stillness of the lake as I stare up into the darkening sky. Daglash Channing's hands find their way towards me through the inky water, our clothing long abandoned on the edge of the lake.  
  
"Niranjana. . . "  
  
His voice is low and deep, barely heard over the faint sound of water against rock. His eyes are dark, much darker than normal as they trail down my body, pausing every now and them before moving on to the next feature. He grins in a predatory way, his arms wrapping around my waist. My breath catches as he pulls me up against him, nibbling gently along my collar bone. My own arms find their way around his neck, and I tremble slightly when his fingers brush against the small of my back.  
  
He kisses me then, the tip of his tongue grazing along my bottom lip, taking advantage of the gasp that tumbles out of me when I feel something warm and hard slip between my thighs. He tastes like salt and spice before he pulls away slightly and a low moan is buried in the crook of my neck.  
  
"Niri, I want. . . "  
  
Daglash's hands slide down my legs, lifts them up to wrap around his hips. He presses against me for a moment, and his warmth seems to seep into me as I open myself to him. I close my eyes, the imprint of the rising moon still glowing in the caverns of my mind. I whimper slightly, wrapping myself tighter against him as he moves against me. We hold onto each other as if our lives depend on it, and maybe they do. Because the very thought of letting go seems unbearable at the moment, even though there has never been something like this between us before, and probably never will be again.  
  
We're drifters, we two. And at this moment, we are drifting together.  
  
We don't notice that we aren't alone, don't realize that we are being watched until a cold chill seems to ripple through the water followed by a loud yelp.  
  
Dementors, scores and scores of black robed demons are floating towards us. All seemingly intent on following a large black dog that was quickly being cornered by the edge of the lake. The dog turns its head towards us, whining piteously, yet as if in warning.  
  
"Sweet Merlin." I pull away from Daglash and look for an escape route. "They're everywhere!"  
  
"Follow me!" Daglash splashes towards a spot on the edge of the lake where the Dementors haven't reached. I try to hurry as fast as I can, but my legs feel weak and the water seems to be pulling me back as the current begins to move stronger. Daglash grabs my hand to keep me from falling behind.   
  
Once we reach the water's edge, we try to make a break for it. The Dementors are everywhere. Some have turned to face us, seem to be tracking us as if considering to hunt us too. I feel cold, a chill that seems to settle in my bones as we are forced to run towards the Forbidden Forest. I think about trying to reach our robes for a moment, but the thought is distinguished faster than it occurred when more and more Dementors appear out of the shadows.  
  
We have no choice but to run straight into the trees, forgetting to be cautious of what is ahead of us because fear is all there is behind. Twigs and stones are cutting at my feet, the canopy of leaves above us keeping the light of the moon from reaching very far between the foliage.  
  
It is dark, and we become quickly lost. We slow our pace, confused, and I am even more lost when Daglash drops my hand. He refuses to look at me as he scouts a few paces ahead of me.  
  
I wish I could have told him what would happen next.  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore always warned students away from the Forbidden Forest. Most took his yearly announcement as a challenge.  
  
Fred and George Weasley alone must have tried to get past Hagrid a hundred times.  
  
When I was in my first year, we used to make up stories of what could be behind those trees. Older students would relate dozens of adventures that they never had, and we would sit there with open mouths and ready ears as each tale became more fantastic than the last.  
  
It was all so very romantic when we weren't actually braving the perils of the woods.  
  
It all happened so fast that night. Even years later, I would never be able to retell the events exactly as they happened. There was screaming, that much I know. And a terrible crunching sound. And pain.   
  
There was so much pain.  
  
***  
  
I hear a howl, much closer than I would have liked. Daglash pauses mid-step, trying to find the source of the noise in an otherwise silent wood.  
  
I see a dark mass leap out of the shadows and throw itself at Daglash. I scream, or he screams, as the terrible sound of ripping flesh and breaking bones fills the stillness of the night. I turn to run, or think of turning to run, not wanting to stay around for a moment longer than necessary.  
  
Before I can convince my feet to move, I am thrown down against the mossy forest floor. I feel my shoulder being crushed between two rows of sharp, cruel teeth. I scream then, and it is only me and no one else. I know this now because I can see the empty eyes of Daglash staring back at me, his body a twisted sculpture of bones, flesh and blood.  
  
Whatever emotions I keep bottled up threaten to pour out and wash away the sight before me.  
  
I hear deep, panting breaths resounding in my ears. Harsh growls mixing with my cries and sobs. A body climbs over me. I feel thick, coarse hair scratching against my back and my thighs. I struggle weakly, feeling almost as if a part of me is leaving my soul altogether and is being filled with something else. Something forign. He positions myself behind me, and I can't move out from underneath the muscled form pinning me to the ground. My eyes close against the dark, but it is still all around me even as sparks of light dances behind my eyelids.  
  
And after that, there is only the pain. 


	2. The Consequence of Shadows

My head is buzzing slightly. I feel the ghost of night and shadows echoing around me, and it takes a minute for me to realize that I am in a bed. The wind whistles between the school's towers. It sounds so near that it is almost as though I have been caught up inside of the invisible force. I can almost feel the breeze blowing through my hair. There are voices all around me, hushed, whispering voices, and I would listen to what they say if my entire body didn't feel so broken.  
  
I feign sleep for as long as I can, trying not to remember anything that happened to me only a few hours ago. I can still feel the blood on me, the beast in me. The voices stop when I shudder involuntarily, tears threatening to sneak out from the corners of my eyes.  
  
"Miss Said? Are you awake?"  
  
Professor Dumbledore's robes rustle together as he approaches my bed and kneels at the side. I nod slowly, pressing my lips together in an effort to keep it all in. To keep the shards of my soul from spilling out and leaving me an empty shell of torn flesh. The headmaster smiles kindly when I open my eyes for the first time, his normally vibrant blue eyes now seeming as cold and passive as the sea. Or maybe it is me who is cold and passive, unreachable to the warmth of day.  
  
"You have had quite the night, young lady." His smile wavers slightly, as if it were a ship being capsized in a storm. "Do you remember anything about last night?"  
  
Of course I remember.  
  
I roll over on my stomach, despite the loud protest of my muscles, and burrow myself under the covers. Madam Pomfrey scolds Dumbledore, tells him that I am not ready to speak. That he should let me alone.  
  
"Where's Daglash," I mumble weakly into the pillow. I hate the faint quiver in my voice, the raging flood that suddenly bursts from somewhere inside of me. "Where's Daglash?!? I want to see him! Where is he?"  
  
The image of his broken corpse pops up in my mind, but I ignore it as I demand to see him. I roll over and glare at them, the rambled words tumbling out of my mouth quickly becoming lost beneath the screams inside of my head. Neither the headmaster nor the nurse attempts to calm me as I break down into tears.  
  
A hand, wavering and unsure, brushes across my shoulder. Somehow, I know that it doesn't belong to the other two before I realize that it's Professor Lupin and his hand that's quickly being extracted. He doesn't look at me, his exhausted eyes staring intently at something somewhere beside me.  
  
"I'm so very sorry. For all of this." His voice breaks slightly as he rests his head in his hands. His shoulders shake with silent sobs, each breath becoming more laboured than the one before it. I clench my jaw tightly, slowly gaining some semblance of control over my emotions.  
  
"Where is Daglash?"  
  
Dumbledore takes my hand in his. His skin is warm against my clammy palm. "Mr. Channing did not make it out of the forest."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"He has moved on to the next life." He tries to smile again as my limbs begin to tremble. I shake my head, my throat suddenly tightening against the words that want to come forth.  
  
"No. No, he can't be -- " I cup a hand over my mouth for a moment, roughly swallowing another torrent of babbled cries. "He. . . He's seventeen, he can't be idead/i."  
  
"I'm afraid it's so, dear." Madam Pomfrey passes me a glass of water. I hold it gingerly between my hands, not quite sure what to do with it. Beads of condensation roll off of the edge, pooling in the crevice between my flesh and the glass. I look up to the three adults, a vicious sort of panic growing somewhere in the back of my mind.  
  
"How could this happen? What was that ithing/i that attacked us?"  
  
Dumbledore and Professor Lupin exchange a pregnant look, the latter quickly burying his face in his hands again.   
  
"The creature in the woods last night was no ordinary beast." Professor Lupin clears his throat, a muscle popping in his jaw. "It. . . I am a werewolf."  
  
"A werewolf?" The dark shape from the forest quickly takes form in my mind, leaping again and again at Daglash's fragile body as the monster becomes more clear. I look at the professor in horror, the full meaning of his statement hitting home like a bullet.   
  
"It. . . that ithing last night was you?"  
  
Lupin nods desperately, his pained eyes meeting my own. "Niranjana, I -- "  
  
He stops abruptly as I fly at him, my fists beating against his chest wildly. He makes no attempt to defend himself in any way.   
  
"You did this to us! You monster!" A strangled cry tears from my throat as Madam Pomfrey forces me back onto the bed.   
  
"How could you do this to me?!? You. . . you. . . " I close my eyes again. "You raped me." The words come out as little more than a whisper and, although he didn't even try, Lupin has defeated me again. I can sense him nod beside me.  
  
"That's not all I have done. I have cursed you as well." 


	3. Past and Present

I'd just like to thank everyone for their wonderful fb. On with the fic!  
  
  
***  
  
It's a funny feeling when your world is pulled out from under your feet. It has only happened to me once before with such a vengeance.  
  
Both of my parents were from a long line of wizarding families. They were about as pureblooded as one could get, and as kind-hearted as one can only wish to be. They fought against Voldemort during his reign of terror. Died fighting against him.   
  
It happened when I was four years old. One year almost to the day before Harry Potter defeated that bastard. My mother was an Auror and my father a department head at the Ministry of Magic. The Death Eaters always chose their victims carefully; mudblood, spy, traitor, threat. Each move was so carefully calculated, every intention obscured behind a pack of lies and false promises.  
  
Being both in dangerous professions, my parents took great measures to protect myself and my sister. She was -- is, really -- two years older than me. We spent the majority of our early childhood in Ministry safe houses and other Unplottable places, both unable to imagine life without war.  
  
It was simple enough for Voldemort to gain followers wherever he went, and the Ministry was no closed system. People passed in and out of it daily, half of which who would never return. Refugees, workers, volunteers, prisoners. It was so simple for him to reach someone who could expose some of his most dangerous enemies.  
  
And when they reached my parents, there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. The Death Eaters broke into our safe house quickly, but left very slowly. They tortured my parents with the Cruciatus Curse for hours, my sister and I cowering at their feet.  
  
They didn't bother using magic on us. Manual punishment for being alive seemed well enough for two little girls.  
  
The Ministry didn't react until the next day. Didn't realize that anything at all was amiss until two twisted bodies arrived with the afternoon tea.  
  
Muggles had already picked my sister and I up, left abandoned on the side of a desolate Muggle highway. Someone in the Ministry had decided that it would be best to leave us to their care, unable or unwilling to find us a better living situation. We were each sent to a different orphanage, never to make contact again until I received my letter to Hogwarts.  
  
When we saw each other for the first time in the Great Hall, we both looked to the floor and hurried by as fast as we could.  
  
By then, there was nothing left to say.  
  
***  
  
It took me a while to realize that I had been placed in a private room. I don't know where exactly in Hogwarts this room is placed, but it's quiet and private. I almost never leave the bed, letting the soft weight of the blankets protect me from what is left of the world. Nearly no one visits me.  
  
Even less really know what has happened.  
  
It's the only way I would have it.  
  
I'm at a loss. The world doesn't seem to make sense anymore. Everything has suddenly become cold and cruel. The shadows whisper to me, threaten me. To consume me, drown me in their darkness. And I would let them, because I hate them so much that I couldn't stand their presence a moment longer than I must.  
  
As much as I want to blame Lupin, this was my own doing. I brought this upon myself. I should have. . . I shouldn't have taken Daglash to the lake.  
  
I hate the shadows, but the shadows are myself.  
  
Everything I touch falls apart before my eyes. I am Midas, and everything is cast in a coffin of gold.  
  
***  
  
"Miss Said, no one would blame you if you decide to press charges against Professor Lupin. It would, after all, be perfectly justified."  
  
I glare at Dumbledore. I think he knows that there isn't much of an option, yet he insists on pretending that I have a choice.  
  
"What, and announce to the world that I am a dark creature? And how would that help me, headmaster?"  
  
We have already been through the risks. If it became known that I were a werewolf. . . What would people think? How would I find work? Not to mention the media.  
  
I couldn't bear this horrible nightmare becoming front page news.  
  
"How am I supposed to go on like this?" I lean back against the headboard. "What am I supposed to do, now that I'm a monster?"  
  
Dumbledore smiles and pats the back of my hand. I'm sure that the gesture is intended to be comforting, but it has quite the opposite effect. It makes my skin crawl.  
  
"Lycanthropes are very misunderstood creatures, Miss Said. They are not the beasts that people believe they are."  
  
"Excuse me, professor, but I don't think that you are aware of what kind of ibeasts/i they can be." I pull my hand away. Dumbledore nods sadly.  
  
"Unfortunately, you are very acquainted with the worst part of the species. But think back; Before all of this business had happened, did you ever feel threatened by Professor Lupin?"  
  
No. Of course not. Professor Lupin was. . . kind and sensitive and. . . I look the headmaster square in the eye. "It doesn't matter what I thought then. It's what I think now that concerns me."  
  
Dumbledore stands slowly, retreating, running away. "I'm sorry that you think that. Because he is a wonderful man on every night of the month bar one. It is only on one night that he is a monster."  
  
He walks towards the door, and I refuse to feel any sympathy for that man. That faint twinge in my heart is nothing. Dumbledore smiles at me over his shoulder.  
  
"I think that you will be pleased to know that all of your professors have excused you from final examinations. Your marks as they stand will be your final grades." He steps out through the door, and I barely hear his parting words.  
  
"And Professor Lupin will be leaving Hogwarts promptly."  
  
Somehow, that isn't such a comforting thought. 


	4. The Lair of the Wolf

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I appreciate your input!   
  
***  
  
The silence in this room is killing me. Not that it is silent at all. This room is in an unused hallway of the castle, but I can still sense people all around me. I can hear voices and footsteps echoing through the hallways, even though it seems near impossible that they could reach me. Every breath I take, the mere rustle of my hair across my skin is acute and profound, as if every motion made in life is calling out to me. And yet, it is too silent.  
  
Its been days, weeks maybe, since that night in the woods. Term has finished, and most students have already taken Hogwarts Express back to London. Only a few seventh years remain, as graduation ceremony is to be held tomorrow. And after, everyone will be gone, and I will truly be left alone. Dumbledore thought it best that I reside in Hogwarts until I have adjusted to my lycanthropy. Raw energy courses through my veins, runs through my blood like a river of pure anticipation. I am waiting, always waiting, and the stillness of the room makes it seem unbearable.  
  
I want to hunt. Something is missing from my soul, and I yearn to find it. I can almost taste it in the air, a familiar musk surrounding me that has been fading slowly with each passing hour.  
  
Finally, I can stand it no longer. I quickly pull a dressing gown over my night shirt on my way out the door. My senses are assailed the moment the door is open. Light streams through a row of towering windows along one side of the corridor, nearly blinding in its strength. New sounds nearly sizzle in their potency, new smells filling my breath.   
  
An inexplicable thrill trembles up my spine, causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. Just leaving my sickroom causes a release of some sort, yet the want is still there, waiting to consume my sanity. That scent, the one I desire, is stronger out here. It's everywhere.  
  
I walk quickly down the hallway, nearly sprinting as the odor grows stronger. Soon, it's not only a smell, but the residue of a presence that I follow. The world blurs around me, fades away as my feet and my heart carry me towards a part of the castle I have never been to before.  
  
I stop before a closed door. I know I have arrived despite the fact that I do not know where I am. I reach towards the knob, fingers grazing the smooth metal hesitantly before I turn it and push the door open.   
  
It's a bedroom.  
  
A stained glass window stretches across the bulk of one wall, casting a kaleidoscope of colours throughout the room. An ancient desk is pushed up against said window, assorted stationary neatly organized on the surface. A large oak wardrobe lies to one side of the room, most of it's drawers and doors either open or hastily shut. A large four poster bed completes the furniture of the room , completely stripped of it's bedding with exception of two thick pillows. Sheets and blankets are folded at the foot of the bed in preparation of the next occupant.   
  
The feeling that has hidden at the back of my mind, the anxiousness that has haunted me for the past few days springs to the surface. I feel as if I am trying to go everywhere at once. I want to touch everything in the room, to try to soak up that essence that is so powerful within these walls. A ripping sensation tears at my heart, and I am so sure that I am dying, I crave so much.  
  
I fall forward, pressing my forehead to the ground in a desperate attempt to stop the world from falling apart without me. Frantic sobs press against my throat, trying so vigorously to escape that my entire body tenses to keep them inside. I crawl over to a trash can beside the desk and heave what little breakfast I ate into the metal bin. As I sit back on my knees, my hand comes into contact with a piece of parchment crumpled on the floor. I unfold it curiously, revealing a mess of hurried script.  
  
iMy Dearest Remus,  
  
At last you know the truth about what happened that night. It has been so many years since that fatal day, but thrice more could pass and I would still never forgive myself for doubting you. My distrust has led to the ruin of so many lives. James and Lily are dead, Harry has been orphaned, and you, my love, lost everyone you cared for most in this world.  
  
I don't know if you could ever forgive me for causing so much pain. I don't even have the right to ask for your forgiveness. All I know is that I love you. I loved you then, even when I thought that you had betrayed us, and I love you still. I would move all the stars in the sky to have another chance at happiness with you. Please say that the love you once felt for me has disappeared.  
  
I must go into hiding now. It would be better for you if you did not know where. All I hope for at this point is that I can make amends for all of the suffering I have caused. I cannot change the past, but I want to give you a future.  
  
Yours Forever,  
Sirius/i  
  
Sirius? It couldn't be Sirius iBlack/i, could it? A deep growl escapes from my throat as I tear the letter into pieces. A new feeling -- jealousy? -- erupts in my heart, and it is all I can do not to scream. How dare that, that imurderer/i write to imy/i Remus? How dare he! And where is the good professor at this moment? I try and banish the image of Lupin and Black engaging in some lusty carnal embrace.   
  
In the end, I do scream. I scream with every piece of my shattered soul.  
  
***  
  
"Madam Pomfrey!"  
  
I dash across the Great Hall as quickly as my legs can carry me. The students and staff are going through a mock ceremony, with Professor McGonagall reviewing the procedure to those slated to speak to the crowd of misty eyed parents and indifferent siblings. Odd looks come from every direction. I must look a sight, running through a crowd of witches and wizards in my bed clothes, but I care not. The nurse furrows her brow in concern as I stop before her.  
  
"Miss Said? Are you feeling all right? What's wrong?"  
  
I fall to the grown before her, grabbing onto her robes so that I don't collapse completely.  
  
"Madam, it hurts! It hurts so much! You have to make it stop, please, please. . . " I whimper as I bury my face in the folds of her robe, anguish practically seeping from my pores. "I can't do this, I can't. I can't live like this."   
  
I sob as two hands grip my shoulders and pull back. I fall limply against a narrow chest, and I vaguely recognize Percy Weasley before I curl up around him.   
  
"What's wrong, Niranjana? You can tell me anything. I'm Head Boy, after all." I shudder slightly at his fumbled attempt at comfort as an uncertain hand comes up to brush the hair out of my eyes.  
  
"Why did he leave me?" 


	5. Partners in Imitation

I can't believe what I am feeling. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. Professor Lupin is a monster, he's a freak. I hate him.  
  
Only I don't hate him. I can no longer deny that. I'm consumed with emptiness without him.  
  
There's something deeper, something feral growing in my subconscious. The wolf, the darkness that has invaded me has a longing. It wants what it wants, even when it makes no sense at all. But why him? Why does it want to be near the one who did this to me? It's all so confusing. Why do I feel this way? I hate Lupin for what he has done to me, but I can't help but miss his presence in the school. Its as if he has drained it of it's friendliness and familiarity. I am a foreigner in a land with no peace.  
  
Sweet Merlin, what has he done to me?  
  
"Niranjana, you have to leave this room sometime."  
  
I burrow deeper under the covers of my bed, pulling Percy's body closer to my own. Its less than an hour before the ceremony and Hogwarts' valedictorian has been in my bed since he carried me back upstairs the day before. "I don't want to. You can't make me."   
  
"But it's igraduation/i, Niri! You have worked for seven years to make it to this day. You should celebrate. And besides, you don't want to miss me falling flat on my face when I go up to make my speech, now do you?"  
  
I chuckle softly before I can stop myself, feeling the lightest that I have since iit/i happened. It ends almost before it could begin, the moment of joviality short lived. I hold my hand over my mouth, suddenly feeling sick deep down in my stomach. Like I have betrayed both Daglash and myself by forgetting that night in the forest. Percy takes my hand in between his own, rubbing the back of my hand with one long thumb.   
  
"It's all right for you to be laugh, Niranjana. Whatever has come about, you are still allowed to be happy."  
  
Tears gather on the tips of my eyelashes, and I keep my eyes open as long as possible to keep them from rolling down my cheeks. "I'll never be happy, Percy. Not ever."  
  
Maybe I never was.   
  
***  
  
I have known Percy since that very first day on Hogwarts Express. I searched most of the train for an empty compartment, but eventually settled for one with a single redheaded occupant. Percy was kneeling on a seat, practically hanging out of the window as his older brothers alternately gave him last minute advice about classes and told him horror stories about what would happen at the castle. Their mother was nowhere to be seen, but shouts of "Fred! George! Get down off of those rafters! Ron, Ginny, where did you get those matches?" could be heard throughout Platform nine and three quarters.   
  
As the train began to pull away from the station, Percy grabbed one of his brother's arms and forced the boy to follow along side of the train.   
  
"Bill, I'm afraid!" Bill grinned widely and pried his arm out from between those freckled fingers.   
  
"Don't be scared, Percy. Hogwarts is great, you'll see!"  
  
Percy began to tremble as his brothers instantly become swallowed up by the crowd of people gathered to bid farewell to the students. He began calling for his mother, searching the sea of faces frantically as we began to pass by with increasing velocity.   
  
She never made it to the train before it left the station all together.   
  
***  
  
Percy pretended to be asleep for the first half of the trip, lying with his back towards me on his seat. His shoulders were shaking slightly with hitching sobs, and I wanted more than anything to say something to comfort him. I would have given my life to make him feel better at that moment. Regardless, whenever I opened my mouth nothing would come out, so we sat in an uncomfortable silence.   
  
I wished as hard as I could for something to break the ice. At that point, I hadn't lived in the wizarding world for seven lonely years. I had been in and out of many foster homes. Some were good, most were not so good. None of my living situations lasted long before I lost control of my powers and found myself standing on the steps of an orphanage. I wanted so much for a friend. For someone to tell me all about wizards, witches, and everything else magic. I wanted someone to tell me that in some places, freaks like me really were normal. I wanted someone to like me.   
  
There was a crashing in the hallways, the noise a sharp contrast with the stillness in our compartment. Percy lifted his face from the crook of his elbow for the first time in an hour. Voices shouted angrily outside of our door. It scared me to hear them, made me feel as if I was back in one of those foster homes and my caretakers had come home drunk again. The noise seemed to excite Percy, who sprung into action more rapidly than his thin form seemed to be able to allow. He wiped tears from his reddened eyes and pulled open the door before I could protest.   
  
Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood fell onto the floor by his feet. I backed away to the end of my bench as the two boys traded punches, continuing their brawl oblivious to our presence. Percy hopped around expertly, avoiding tripping over them as he reached for his wand. He pointed it at the boys and yelled "ORCHIDEOUS!" at the top of his lungs.   
  
Two pairs of eyes stared at him in bewilderment as a single flower sprouted out of the end of the wand. Marcus began to laugh as the bloom wilted before his eyes, quickly forgetting his opponent that was pinned on the ground under him.   
  
"Is that the best you can do? Blimey, what's a squib like you going to a place like Hogwarts for?" Oliver pushed the other boy off of him and stood up beside Percy, who began to blush sheepishly.   
  
"He's not a squib, you thick headed sod. He's got more magic in his bogies than you'll ever have!"   
  
"And I suppose that I was very nearly killed just now by that posy?" Marcus flicked the limp flower still attached to the end of the wand. "Even you had to have seen how pathetic that was, Wood."  
  
Oliver flew at Marcus with an enraged battle cry, effectively knocking the both of them out into the corridor. Percy slammed the door shut behind them. We stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do in the wake of the disturbance. I searched my mind for something, anything to say.   
  
"Are you really a squib?"  
  
The remainder of Percy's blush disappeared as all the colour drained from the boy's face, making his freckles stand out like soil against snow.   
  
"I am inot/i a squib! I'll be the best wizard ever to go to Hogwarts, you'll see!"  
  
My already raw nerves jolted at his voice, so harsh and desperate. I smiled weakly at him as I lay down on the cushioned seat. It was my turn to pretend to sleep.   
  
Percy and I remained a sort of friends, despite our rocky start on the train. No one else seems to understand the rules of the game. No one else understands how crucial the imitation of normalcy is to everyday life. 


End file.
